Olsen Olsen

Of all the Sigur Rós catalog, this track carries perhaps the most sustained sense of playfulness beneath its immensity. There is still the characteristic glacial production — reverb pools deep enough to drown in, Jónsi's falsetto hovering above the mix like something not quite tethered to earth — but underneath the grandeur runs a current of something almost childlike, a game played in slow motion. The guitar work here relies heavily on the bowing technique Jónsi pioneered with a cello bow, extracting harmonic overtones from electric strings that have no precedent in rock music and only loose equivalents in classical music. The rhythm builds in overlapping cycles rather than a conventional backbeat, so the listener feels the pulse the way you feel a tide rather than a metronome. Emotionally it oscillates between wonder and unease, between the feeling of standing at a great height and looking out versus looking down. It belongs to the Ágætis byrjun album's inner architecture, functioning as one of its more mercurial and shape-shifting pieces. The song rewards patient listening through headphones in complete darkness — it has a three-dimensional quality that stereo speakers flatten somewhat. Reach for this when you want music that makes ordinary space feel unfamiliar, that turns a quiet room into somewhere slightly mysterious.